


An Unholy Fire

by illgetmyspade



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, M/M, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:22:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22901659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illgetmyspade/pseuds/illgetmyspade
Summary: It's like kindergarden for grown-ups - the bloody leech teasing the leader of Priwen, and Geoffrey is such a willing victim...
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 61
Kudos: 224





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheLostPleiad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLostPleiad/gifts).



> As always, this isn't beta'd, so apologies for typos and other mistakes.  
> I hope you like this one - comments and suggestions are welcome!

Despite the icy wind, McCullum was sweating. He felt his shirt stick to his back, and his scarf felt unusually suffocating. God, he was getting too old for this shit.

“Fuck you, Reid! If you’re as honourable as you claim to be, fight like a _man_ , not like a feckin’ beast!” he hissed.

Jonathan just laughed as he avoided another of McCullum’s sword strokes. “Would you prefer a gentlemen’s duel?”

“I doubt you’d qualify for that!” the hunter spat, panting. He took aim at Reid when the Ekon reappeared in a cloud of smoke, shooting two arrows from his crossbow in rapid succession. A grunt of pain from his opponent told him they’d hit their mark.

Jonathan ripped the arrows out of his chest. The wounds burned like hell. “Orichalcum powder? Really, McCullum?” he growled. “I thought you wanted to fight honourably?” He sidestepped to avoid McCullum’s sword when another bolt lodged in his stomach. Gritting his teeth, he quickly pulled it out and threw it to the ground. Fine, if the Priwen leader wanted to fight dirtily, he’d return the favour. He jumped behind the hunter and ripped his claws across his back before McCullum had even realised he’d changed position. Immediately the smell of blood filled the air, making Jonathan momentarily dizzy. Ever since he’d first sunk his teeth into the Irishman’s flesh, he found himself craving for more. The thirst burning in his throat became almost unbearable, turning his vision red. Just as he closed in to bite, McCullum spun around, sinking his sword into Jonathan’s guts as the Ekon stepped forward.

For a second, the two men stopped moving.

Jonathan felt the blade lodged in his intestines, burning and hurting like hell. Geoffrey looked at him, his face was sweaty, distorted by anger and exertion and shock at Reid suddenly being so close to him. He tried to pull out the sword, but Jonathan grabbed his arm and seized his collar, pushing him back until they crashed into a brick wall so hard it knocked the air from the hunter’s lungs.

Geoffrey brought up the crossbow, but the leech was faster – and stronger. The vicelike grips on his wrists held him in place, and he watched helplessly as Reid impaled himself even deeper on the sword in order to get closer to him, fangs bared in a horrifying snarl. He closed his eyes, waiting for the leech to rip out his throat.

“This really hurt, McCullum.” A soft voice against the hunter’s ear, making him wince. He opened his eyes. What the hell was the bastard up to? Beneath the pain, there was triumph in Reid’s pale eyes, it made McCullum’s blood boil, and he was just about to inform him that he was glad about that when the Ekon gave him a mischievous grin, let go of his arm and, without warning, slammed his elbow in the hunter’s face.

Geoffrey cried out in pain, stunned by the force of the blow, then Reid pulled the sword out, flung it on the ground and gave him one last warning look before he disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Geoffrey knew Reid wouldn’t be back, and since dawn would break soon, he should be quite safe from other leeches, too. Sliding down against the wall with a groan, he reached for his nose, feeling blood run over his lips. At least it wasn’t broken, and neither was his jaw, as he thankfully noted. He held a handkerchief against his nose, and as he tilted his head back and stared at the greying sky above, he cursed himself for his stupidity. The bastard leech could easily have killed him, he knew that perfectly well. He’d spared him in the attic, too, though he hadn’t hesitated to bite him when they fought there. Why had he held back this time? Was his blood so disgusting to Reid that he’d only drink if he absolutely needed it? He’d injured the leech badly, sure, but not so badly that the leech wouldn’t manage to get back to his lair at the Pembroke. To his dismay, he found the idea that the Ekon might dislike his blood… upsetting.

‘To hell with you, bloody leech,’ Geoffrey thought to himself, forcing himself to get up. His back hurt, as did his face, and he shivered in the cold. ‘Next time I _will_ finish you!’

* * *

That next time came sooner than McCullum had thought.

Two nights later, he saw the leech again in the sewers. Reid had appeared out of nowhere, as seemed to be his habit, though in retrospect Geoffrey wondered whether he really had come across their patrol purely by chance. He also wondered whether Reid’s appearance hadn’t in fact been quite fortunate – not that he would have admitted that to anyone – since they’d faced three sewer beasts.

In the confined space of the sewers, fighting those bastards was even more demanding than out in the open. Also, one never knew what else might be attracted by the carnage and had to watch one’s back. It had been only him, McIntyre and Gordon; they were all experienced fighters, but they’d never had to fight three beasts at once.

Geoffrey was hacking away at one beast with his sword, while his fellow guards were cornering the other two with torches, shotgun and orichalcum powder. He grunted in exertion, shooting his crossbow at the beast’s head while evading its massive claws. It yelped, angrily reaching for the bolt lodged in its neck, then it gave up and instead jumped towards the hunter. He brought up his sword, trying to fend off the beast looming over him, drooling and snapping, when it suddenly rolled off him, shoved away in a cloud of black smoke. An Ekon ripped through the beast’s fur and sank his fangs into its neck, and Geoffrey watched, both horrified and fascinated, as the usually so composed doctor turned into this unrestrained force – shadow, blood, disgust, anger and… lust. It should have repelled him, but for the first time he realised that despite himself he understood the _thirst_. It was beyond Reid’s control, and yet he’d never unleashed his power – his _true_ power – when fighting Priwen, McCullum saw that now. This recognition should perhaps have been a relief, but somehow it only made Geoffrey angrier.

Reid let go and the beast sank to the ground with a thump. Standing and wiping his mouth, he looked at McCullum. For a split-second he looked almost lost and guilty, then his expression changed and he gave the hunter a wicked grin before he swooshed towards the other beasts. Disregarding the guards completely, he bludgeoned the two beasts, evading their blows while making sure to keep them away from the humans.

The doctor was a mess when the fight was over – his coat and shirt were torn and dirty, and half his face was smeared with blood. It was only now that he looked at the three Priwen guards, licking his lips and wiping his face with his sleeve, giving them a guilty look before turning away.

McIntyre was just about to thank the Ekon for his unexpected but welcome help, when his leader ripped the torch from his hand and threw it before Reid’s feet.

“Fuck off, bloody leech!” Geoffrey yelled, sword ready as if the Ekon had made a move to attack.

Jonathan turned around. “Oh, so you _do_ want to fight!” He gave Geoffrey an amused look. “And here I was, thinking you’d gladly leave all the hard work to me.”

“Do you really think we needed help finishing three lousy beasts?” Geoffrey shot back, silently cursing himself for his words the moment he uttered them – and for blushing slightly at his own blatant lie.

“Well, it _did_ look as if—“ Jonathan began, but the hunter interrupted him.

“Oh, shut it, and get the fuck out of here before we finish you, too!” Geoffrey growled, ignoring McIntyre muttering something which sounded like ‘speak for yourself, Geoff’ behind his back. Reid must have heard it, too, and his grin turned into laughter.

“I’d like to see you try – again!” he teased, making sure to be out of McCullum’s reach and disappearing in a cloud of black smoke before the Irishman jumped towards him.

This time, Geoffrey didn’t reply anything, knowing that he was only making a fool of himself. Sheathing his sword, he turned towards the guards. “We should get rid of the carcasses. Before they attract any more feckin’ leeches,” he said, giving one of the beasts a lazy kick.

“I think Reid… was only trying to help us,” Gordon offered, giving McIntyre an amused glance behind Geoffrey’s back. They bit back a grin, trying hard to keep a straight face when their leader shot them an angry look.

“Reid,” he cried, “is a feckin’ _leech_! He doesn’t _help_!”

McIntyre raised a brown, slightly shaking his head at McCullum’s stubbornness. “Whatever you say, Geoffrey,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes once the Irishman had turned around to torch the dead beasts. Sometimes he wondered how their leader could pretend to be so blind and ignorant. It was obvious that Reid wasn’t like the other bloodsuckers and hardly a threat to them, yet Geoffrey seemed intent on ignoring that fact – for whatever reason.

“Let’s go,” Geoffrey finally said, “I need a drink.”

* * *

Of course McIntyre and Gordon had to tease him all the way to the Turquoise Turtle. They enjoyed that just as much as that bloody leech did, it seemed. It pissed McCullum off because he knew they were right.

He didn’t even know why Reid irritated him as badly as he did, it was almost as if he—

A knock on the door broke his reveries. It was Richardson, his most trusted captain, peeking in through the half-opened door. “Geoff? Can I talk to you for a moment?” He entered the office when McCullum nodded.

“Fred, what can I do for you?”

The captain helped himself to a Scotch and sat down at the desk opposite his leader. “We’re worried,” he began.

Geoffrey gave him a wary look. “Worried? About what?”

“You.” Richardson cleared his throat. “Actually, about you killing Dr Reid.”

Geoffrey eyed him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

“He’s a good doctor, right? And he could be a powerful ally of Priwen. I mean… are you telling me you haven’t noticed?” Fred asked.

“Noticed what?!”

“That he actually looks out for Priwen. For _you_ , specifically.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Geoffrey snapped.

“Geoff, sometimes I really wonder how you can be so slow and dumb,” the captain sighed. “Reid cares about you.”

There was a dangerous glint in Geoffrey’s eyes, and Fred knew he had to tread carefully. “What are you trying to say?!”

“I think he likes you.” Fred held up a hand when the Irishman jumped from his chair in anger. “Hear me out, Geoff,” he shoved his glass of Scotch towards him, “and have a drink.” He waited until Geoffrey had sat down again. “You’re probably the only one who hasn’t noticed yet, but…” He hesitated. “Whenever we get in a fight with leeches, he turns up, too, and he _always_ takes our side. And when you’re there… Damn, he always makes sure no harm comes to you, Geoff. You’ve got to be fuckin’ blind not to notice that!”

“I still don’t know what you’re trying to get at,” Geoffrey grumbled, shooting his captain a gloomy look.

“Just that… maybe you should stop considering him your arch enemy, y’know? He’s helped us countless times – as a leech and as a doctor. Fuckin’ hell, he’s saved this _city_ , right?!”

“He could save the whole damn world and I still wouldn’t like him!” Geoffrey shot back.

“Well… nobody said you have to _like_ him, Geoff,” Fred said, raising a brow in surprise, “not hating him would be a good enough start, I guess.”


	2. Chapter 2

Geoffrey couldn’t help but think about Richardson’s words when Reid joined them again just a few nights later. Fighting a handful of Skals on Whitechapel cemetery on a patrol with Duncan Holton, one of the Priwen rookies, he realised that the Ekon did in fact look out for his lads, particularly now that they had stopped fighting him. It certainly wasn’t on Geoffrey’s orders – he hadn’t told any of his men not to engage with Reid. Perhaps the captain had been right about this, too: Apparently, he _was_ the last to admit that the doctor meant them no harm. Not that he ever _would_ admit it.

On their way to meet up with another patrol, he and Duncan had chosen to take the shortcut across Whitechapel cemetery. Clearly, their assumption that the cemetery was safe now had been very wrong – there seemed to be more leeches here than during the height of the epidemic even. The first Skals they came across were two half decayed specimens, standing apathetically near the entrance of the crypt. Thinking they were easy prey, Geoffrey attacked right away, killing one with two strokes, while Duncan started hacking away at the second one. The rookie was nimble and fast, but he wasn’t a very skilled sword fighter; if Geoffrey had expected any more Skals to show up, he would have taken an alternative route, avoiding the cemetery altogether. Three more Skals suddenly appeared from Lord knows where, sluggishly but ominously coming towards them – doubtlessly attracted by the sound of fighting and the smell of freshly spilled blood.

They just finished the third Skal, when yet another one appeared in a cloud of smoke behind the young guard. “Duncan, watch out!” Geoffrey yelled, and the guard ducked instinctively, the Skal’s claws missing him by a hair’s breadth. A bolt from Geoffrey’s crossbow hit the Skal in the chest; it stumbled before it disappeared again and reappeared behind the hunter. He turned and raised his sword, slashing at its chest, while Duncan was trying to keep the other two away. For a second, it looked as if the young guard would get the upper hand, but then one of the Skals jumped at him, knocking him to the ground. “McCullum!” he screamed, already knowing that he couldn’t fend off the beast for long.

Geoffrey turned, but all he could do was watch helplessly as Duncan desperately tried to fend off the leech hungrily snapping at him. The guard grunted with the effort, frantically using his hands, elbows and knees to defend himself, when a cloud of smoke appeared next to him. For a split-second Geoffrey dreaded it was the Blinker Skal, but to his infinite relief it was their leech ally, as Richardson had called him. The Ekon pushed the Skal off Duncan, ripping out its throat with his claws before he flung its torn body against a gravestone with such force that the stone broke. He helped Duncan to his feet before he took care of the Blinker Skal. With Geoffrey at his side, the two remaining Skals didn’t stand a chance.

All of this took no more than a few seconds, though to the guards it seemed much longer. Reid wiped his mouth and brushed off his coat, then he turned towards them. An eerie stillness descended onto the cemetery as the two Priwen guards composed themselves.

“Reid, is that your doing?” Geoffrey finally barked.

“Is what my doing?” Jonathan gave him a confused look.

“Feckin’ Skals! Why are there so many on the cemetery? Didn’t you say you took care of… whatever it is you took care of?”

“Don’t be daft, McCullum, I don’t make Skals. Perhaps Priwen has been slacking off as of late?” he goaded, already knowing that any such suggestion would antagonise McCullum greatly. “Or perhaps you just ought to focus on the leeches who are a menace rather than those who aren’t?”

“Well that would definitely count you in then, Reid, because you _are_ a feckin’ menace!” Geoffrey blurted out, just to contradict the Ekon.

“And you, McCullum, are an idiot,” Jonathan retorted quietly, turning his attention to the young guard beside him, whose heartbeat was still racing. “Are you all right?” he asked before Geoffrey could reply anything.

Duncan nodded, still panting. “I am, I think… Thanks for saving us, Dr Reid,” he said softly, ignoring the angry gaze his leader shot him. “Think I might have hurt my foot, though. Skal must’ve stepped on it,” he added, as if to apologise for not having got out of the fight unscathed despite the Ekon’s help.

“Let me have a look,” Jonathan offered, taking off his coat and putting it on the ground for the guard to sit on. Kneeling down, he carefully took off Duncan’s boot and sock. His ankle was already swollen and turning blue, and the guard winced when he touched it.

“Is it broken?” Geoffrey asked, looking at what the leech was doing and making sure he wasn’t trying to hurt Duncan.

Jonathan shook his head. “No, not broken, but it’s badly sprained. Cool it and make sure to elevate your leg, and rest,” he said, looking at Duncan. “I’ll put a bandage on it, but you should still try to not step on it for the time being.”

Geoffrey was surprised to see how carefully the leech doctor wrapped Duncan’s ankle – though he probably shouldn’t have been, after all he already knew that Reid was a skilled doctor. In fact, he would have sworn that he was gentler than the Priwen medics, and if he’d been honest with himself – which he chose not to be – he would have had to admit that he liked watching the doctor’s hands at work. He was thinking hard about what insult he could throw at the leech, but in the end, he just thanked him for helping them.

Jonathan gave him a surprised look; he had half expected the Priwen leader to make some death threat rather than appreciate his effort to keep them out of harm’s way. “You’re very welcome,” he said, meaning it.

Geoffrey muttered something in reply, helping Duncan get up. He picked up Reid’s coat and handed it to the leech, reluctantly nodding his thanks.

“Can I help you get back safely?” Jonathan offered; he could tell that the young guard was in more pain than he let on.

“Wot, you think we’re goin’ to lead you straight to our headquarters?” Geoffrey snapped. “Forget it, leech, not in a thousand years!”

“Do you seriously think I still don’t know where your lot hides?” Jonathan laughed. It was a lie, but he liked teasing the hunter. He stifled a grin when he saw a shadow of doubt cross McCullum’s face. Even though he’d had no second thoughts when he offered his help, he very much would have liked to know exactly where Priwen HQ was – not to raise hell there but rather to know which areas to avoid. The guards had been much more lenient with him as of late, letting him get away without engaging or pretending not to see him in the first place, but he knew this was a fragile truce at best, and he didn’t want to push his luck. Or rather, he didn’t want the guards to push theirs. “Suit yourself,” he said to Geoffrey, no longer being able to hide a smug grin.

Geoffrey just glared at him, at a loss for words again, torn between the wish to wipe that grin off the doctor’s face and being grateful.

“Well,” Jonathan finally said, putting on his coat, “you know where to find me if you need anything.”

Before either guard could reply anything, the Ekon disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Geoffrey shook his head in annoyance – he hated the fact that the bloody leech had kept the upper hand tonight. _Again_.

“That was lucky, wasn’t it?” Duncan said in a small voice, still shaky, and holding on to McCullum’s shoulder.

Geoffrey rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed was the Guard becoming infatuated with the bloody leech doctor. “Sure it was,” he huffed. He didn’t want to argue with Duncan, not tonight, but it was reckless to rely on Reid’s help; undoubtedly the Ekon would eventually turn against them – Geoffrey dreaded that day already, despite the satisfaction it would give him at having been right about Jonathan Reid. “Now let’s get you back,” he said, trying to dispel that thought as he put an arm around the rookie’s waist to support him.

* * *

“Sorry, what did you say?” McCullum asked, confused.

“Perhaps we ought to check the cemetery again,” Richardson said. He gave his leader a worried look. “Geoff, are you all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” the hunter replied, sounding more irritated than he felt. “I’m just worried about Duncan. Shouldn’t have taken the lad on patrol.”

“It’s not your fault,” the captain said, taking a seat opposite Geoffrey. “And you know he doesn’t blame you. Besides, he knew what he signed up for when he joined the Guard.”

“He shouldn’t be out there, Fred, he’s just a kid, he’s not… made for killing,” Geoffrey shrugged, giving his captain a guilty look. No matter what Fred said, it _was_ his fault that Duncan had almost been killed tonight.

“You can hardly keep him from patrolling, can you?”

“And why not? He could help run Priwen instead. You know, make sure we have food and medical supplies and the like,” Geoffrey suggested. And it made perfect sense; everybody wanted to kill leeches, so maybe the rookie could be convinced to take the one job that was equally important but despised by most of the guards.

Richardson thought for a moment, then he shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

“All right,” Geoffrey said, getting up to pour two glasses of Scotch, handing one to the captain. “I’ll talk to him about it.”

“And have you thought about what I said to you?” Fred asked. “About Reid?”

The Irishman groaned in annoyance.

“Look, you can hardly deny that he wasn’t there to help again, can you?” Richardson hated this kind of talk, especially with their leader. In some respects, Geoffrey sometimes behaved like a child, and of course the task of reasoning with him always fell to him as his oldest friend in the guard.

“No,” Geoffrey grumbled. “It’s just…” He hesitated. “He’s a leech. And we all know how things end when bloodsuckers are involved.” He shrugged helplessly, pushing away the image of his father-turned-vampire that had surfaced in his mind. “I just don’t trust him. I can’t.”

The captain nodded, appreciating McCullum’s honesty. “Fair enough,” he said, emptying the glass and getting up. “Well, let’s leave him in peace until he starts going round sucking everybody dry, all right?”

“I don’t like that, you know that, Fred,” Geoffrey said, leaning back in his chair, tiredly rubbing his face. “I hate waiting for it to happen. I won’t forgive myself for letting Reid slip, y’know?”

Richardson sat back down again.

“We can’t— we _must_ not trust him, Fred,” he said, sounding almost desperate. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. And I cannot give the order to leave him be.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Fred replied. “All I’m asking is you give him a chance. Even you can see that he isn’t like the rest of them. We both know we would have heard if he’d been feeding on humans – and, let’s be honest here, it’s not like there were no temptations, right? The man works in a bloody hospital!”

Geoffrey sighed and shook his head in desperation. “Well I hope to God you’re right, Fred,” he said, thinking to himself that tomorrow night, he would put his captain’s theory to the test.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Instead of a drink at the Turquoise Turtle, Geoffrey gets to fight his favourite enemy. It's a close call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instead of sleeping I... wrote this.  
> Considering that I wrote this instead of sleeping I feel it might not be worth the read, so your feedback will be greatly appreciated.

It took almost a week until the hunter finally got around to testing, as he put it, the leech’s principles. After a few nights of torrential rain, which had kept almost all of Priwen inside in their dry and warm quarters, the weather finally improved.

The night was fresh and clear, and when Geoffrey left the Priwen premises, he stood for a while, looking at the sliver of the moon, its cold light barely illuminating the empty streets before him. Perhaps it was a mistake to go alone. Perhaps this whole idea was a mistake. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to prove, and to whom. For a second he thought about going to the Turquoise Turtle to have a drink, as he had told Richardson he would, but then he checked his sword and crossbow and took off towards the Pembroke.

The city was eerily quiet – it was too late for ordinary folk to be outside, but there seemed to be no leeches, either. For a while, he wandered aimlessly through the dark and empty alleys, straining his ears for any unusual sounds.

“Good evening, McCullum!”

The voice behind him gave Geoffrey such a start that he cried out, spinning around.

“Blood hell, Reid, are you out of your feckin’ mind?! You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Jonathan said, looking genuinely guilty. He jumped off the wall he’d been squatting on, keeping a safe distance to the hunter.

“Why are you lurking here anyway, leech?” Geoffrey felt anger rise in him – he was appalled by the fact that Reid had managed to sneak up on him without him noticing anything, even though he had been extra careful.

Jonathan grinned. He seemed to sense his anger – and the reason behind it. “I was hoping to catch some unwary Priwen guard and have dinner, I guess.”

“I’m not some unwary Priwen guard, Reid,” Geoffrey hissed, drawing his sword.

The Ekon took a step back. “I can see that,” he said, raising a brow. The Irishman seemed to be in a particularly foul mood tonight. “And what brings you here at this time?” he asked, trying to steer the conversations into a safer topic.

“None of your feckin’ business,” Geoffrey growled. Having found what he had been looking for made him even angrier, though he wasn’t exactly sure why. “Pretty fortunate I was out though – city still seems to be crawlin’ with leeches and other vermin,” he spat.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Jonathan smiled. “It’s a beautiful night though,” he offered, once more trying to appease McCullum.

For a short moment Geoffrey considered taking Reid’s offer for a friendlier exchange, but then half-heartedly decided against it. “Not anymore,” he whispered. “Still too many leeches,” he said aloud then, challengingly glaring at the Ekon.

“I have no idea what’s eating you tonight, McCullum,” Jonathan huffed, “but I want no part of it.” He turned to leave, but the sound of the hunter cocking his crossbow stopped him. He slowly turned around. “I don’t want to fight you, McCullum,” he said intently, lifting his hands to show he meant him no harm.

“But I want to fight you,” Geoffrey blurted out.

“Why?!” Jonathan asked, clearly confused. “I haven’t attacked any of your men… recently. I am not threatening you, am I? I really only ever wanted to help. What have I done to you to make you hate me so much?” He sounded both annoyed and exasperated.

“It’s not what you’ve done,” Geoffrey whispered, “it’s who you _are_.” He sounded defeated, almost disappointed by himself, then he raised his crossbow and shot Reid in the chest.

Jonathan grunted in pain. Taking a step back, he quickly ripped the bolt from his chest and threw it aside. For a moment, he didn’t move, then he gave the hunter a menacing growl, displaying his lengthening fangs, ducking slightly. “You asked for this, McCullum,” he hissed, before jumping towards the hunter, ripping his claws across the man’s biceps and chest.

Geoffrey cried out – more in shock than in pain, since the leech had merely scratched him. Before he could bring up either of his weapons, Reid slapped him with so much force that he fell backwards, hitting the ground hard. The next moment the leech was on top of him, pinning him down. In that very instant, all of Geoffrey’s anger, hatred and fierceness dissipated into nothing, replaced by paralysing, cold fear. He felt he couldn’t move – not only because the leech held him in a vicelike grip but also because his body didn’t seem to obey him any longer.

Jonathan clenched his jaw, taking in the scent of fresh blood and fear. He could practically hear the hunter’s heart hammering in his chest, and he felt his body stiffen, helplessly awaiting what was in store for him. Breathing hard, forcing the red out of his vision, Jonathan watched as the blood left McCullum’s face and he felt the hunter’s hands clutching his coat. His prey was no longer even trying to fight him. The Ekon inhaled deeply, enjoying the sweet smell of the Irishman’s blood waking his thirst, scratching at the back of his throat.

Yet seeing the proud hunter so utterly defeated before him was painful rather than enticing. Sure, he was angry with McCullum for provoking him thus, for apparently wanting nothing more than fight and hurt and kill him, but he didn’t want to break this man. Realisation hit him hard that if he had to choose between McCullum’s life and his own, between dying a man or becoming a beast, he would always choose the former.

He would teach the hunter a lesson, though. Bending down, he very carefully and slowly loosened Geoffrey’s scarf, making sure that the hunter didn’t move.

A soft whimper of horror escaped McCullum when he felt the Ekon’s breath on his throat, expecting his fangs on his skin any moment. He was still unable to move, holding the other man close, breathing shallowly, terrified of the pain and of being killed. A cold shiver ran through his entire body when he felt the vampire’s lips on this throat.

Jonathan inhaled deeply, forcing himself to retract his fangs; the thirst was so intense it was almost painful. With one hand he kept the fabric away from McCullum’s throat, while he slowly slid his other hand under the man’s head, protecting him from the cold, wet cobblestones. He tasted the hunter the moment his lips brushed against the skin, realising with a shock that he wanted nothing more than hold this man close, smell and taste and… _have_ him. He moaned almost inaudibly when his lips parted to take in more of Geoffrey, tasting him with the tip of his tongue, kissing the warm flesh almost against his will.

Beneath him, the hunter reacted to his touch. Part of him wanted to ask Reid what the _fuck_ he thought he was doing, when another part knew _exactly_ what Reid was doing – and didn’t want him to stop. He had never been held and kissed with such gentle and intimate bliss. He wanted to push the Ekon away as much as he wanted to melt into his embrace.

Then the touch was gone, leaving behind only a ghostly warmth. Geoffrey didn’t dare open his eyes when Reid shifted slightly, feeling his cool breath against his ear.

“I could never hurt you, Geoffrey,” Jonathan whispered, breathing hard. He looked at the hunter for a moment, his tightly shut eyes, his mouth still slightly distorted by the anticipation of pain, the tears that had left a wet streak on his pale cheeks. He gently wiped them away, then carefully withdrew his hand from underneath McCullum’s skull and got up in a swift motion, disappearing in cloud of smoke before the hunter had time to move, let alone shoot him again.

* * *

Geoffrey had no idea how long he had been lying on the cold ground in that alley, unable to move and trying to figure out what had happened. Staring at the sky above him, he silently cursed himself for his stupidity and his anger – but most of all for the feeling of longing that spread in his guts. He could still hear Jonathan’s voice in his ear, his pledge that he could never hurt him, and despite himself he felt that the leech had told the truth. He pretended that he did mind the fact that Richardson had been right, but he already knew that he could no longer fool himself.

The bloody leech liked him.

And, to make things worse, he liked the bloody leech, too.

Goddammit, he needed a drink.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoffrey will need to drown his sorrows...

Geoffrey had no idea how he got to Tom’s bar. He didn’t remember how much he drank, either, or how he got back to Priwen HQ after that. McIntyre found him by the entrance, bent over, steadying himself against the wall, retching and throwing up.

Thankfully, the guard didn’t say anything about his desolate state; once he’d emptied the contents of his stomach onto the street, the brawler led him inside, wrapping an arm around his waist and steadying him. The two guards at the door jumped up, thinking McCullum was badly injured, but McIntyre signalled them to be quiet before they could ask about it; he knew Geoffrey didn’t want any of his men to see him like this. Richardson would surely give the leader hell for this in the morning, if he found out, so he brought Geoffrey straight to his room.

He helped McCullum sit down on the bed and took off his dirty and damp coat, only now seeing that the sleeve was torn. For a short moment, McIntyre wondered what had happened to Geoffrey, whether he’d spent half the night lying in some dark alley or gutter, rendered unconscious by drink. He shook his head, realising he didn’t even want to know the details. He fetched him a jug of water and made him drink, then took off his heavy boots and his socks. The hunter’s trousers were just as damp as his coat, and McIntyre noticed that his shirt was torn and smeared with blood. Geoffrey was already drifting off to sleep when the brawler undressed him and helped him lie down. Luckily, the injuries on Geoffrey’s arm and chest were only superficial cuts, but they looked suspiciously like the marks of a leech’s claws. “What the hell happened to you, Geoff?” McIntyre asked quietly, not expecting an answer, frowning at his leader.

The Irishman groaned as if with a fever, he tossed and turned and muttered Reid’s name a few times in his delirium, though McIntyre thought it better to ignore it – Lord knows what _that_ was about. He cleaned the wounds on Geoffrey’s arms and chest and then tucked him in and wiped the grime and vomit off his face. Sighing, he brushed across Geoffrey’s forehead and ran a comforting hand through his hair before he got up and put a full glass of water on the ammo crate next to the bed, which served the hunter as a bedside table.

* * *

“Geoff?” A cool hand on his forehead woke McCullum.

It felt like a leech’s hand, and Geoffrey started, feeling a wave of heat and ice wash through him. “Reid!” he gasped, then he realised where he was. “Mac?? What are you doing here?” He gave McIntyre a confused look. “What happened?”

“Thought after last night I’d come check on you and your head,” the brawler said. He looked worried. “Are you all right?”

Geoffrey was relieved that he didn’t comment on him calling out the leech’s name. “My head hurts,” he groaned. “I have no idea what happened. I was at the Turquoise Turtle, but the rest is… somewhat of a blur. Where did you find me?”

“You managed to get to the gate, so it can’t have been that bad,” McIntyre reassured him.

Geoffrey nodded absentmindedly. He had no recollections of even leaving the bar – was it possible that the bloody leech had made sure he’d got back safely? Another wave of heat rushed through him as the memories of the previous night slowly came back. Instinctively, he reached for his throat, remembering Jonathan’s lips on his skin. He blushed, hoping in vain that McIntyre didn’t see it.

“You sure you’re all right, Geoff!?” the brawler asked. He was curious about what had happened between Geoffrey and the leech, but knowing his leader, he thought it better not to ask – let alone mention this to anybody.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Geoffrey said, rubbing his face, “though I feel like shite.”

McIntyre grinned, reaching for the steaming cup he’d placed on the crate. “I brought you some tea. Drink up. And there’s stew in the kitchen, Duncan made sure to save some for you. You better not miss it.” He got up. “Anyhow, if you need anything, I’ll be downstairs.”

Geoffrey nodded and thanked him, already half lost in thought. Sipping his tea, he tried to remember what had happened before he had gone to Tom’s. He remembered the fight with Reid, how the Ekon had subdued him in a matter of mere second, and he could still feel his hand on the back of his head, holding him gently, and his lips on his throat. The memory alone made his heart beat faster. He’d said he could never hurt him, called him by his first name, even, and Geoffrey shivered when he thought about the leech’s cool hand caressing his face. He wasn’t sure what scared him more – the fact that the vampire was capable of showing him affection, or the way his body had reacted to it. He groaned in frustration. This wasn’t good. He ought to get rid of the leech before… before… Geoffrey growled. ‘You’re not getting away with this, Reid,’ he swore himself. If the leech didn’t stay away from him and his men, he’d _make_ him.

With a start, McCullum swung his legs out of bed and got up. He knew that Richardson and McIntyre were waiting for him to join them on a patrol to Whitechapel cemetery. If they were lucky, they’d find out where all the new leeches were coming from – hopefully, this time without Reid’s interference.

* * *

Geoffrey didn’t know whether he was relieved or annoyed by the fact that Reid didn’t show up on the cemetery. They’d come across a few leeches – not so many that the fight would have been too much for the three of them to handle, but enough to justify a drink or two in the Turquoise Turtle afterwards.

Which is where they bumped into Reid.

As soon as he spotted the doctor, McCullum felt himself blush, silently cursing himself for it. Thankfully, it was dark enough that the other two guards didn’t notice anything. As it were, they even seemed pleased to see the bloodsucker, calling out his name as soon as they saw him in front of the bar.

“I was hoping to find you here,” Jonathan said, before Geoffrey could ask him what the hell he was doing there – as if he didn’t have the right to be there, stretching out his hand to greet him.

Geoffrey chose to ignore it. “Why?” he asked warily, thinking of any potentially sinister motives the leech might have to want to seek them out.

“Geoff told us you saved Duncan’s life, Dr Reid,” McIntyre said, quickly reaching for Jonathan’s hand before the Ekon could lower his arm. “We really appreciated your help.” He could feel Geoffrey glaring at him angrily but didn’t pay him any attention.

Jonathan gave the brawler a faint smile. “How is he? If there’s anything I can do, please let me know, I—“

“He’s doing all right,” Geoffrey growled impatiently. If he let him, McIntyre would probably invite the bloody leech over for tea, so he shoved the brawler towards the door and away from the Ekon.

“Won’t you join us, Dr Reid?” Richardson offered, slightly ashamed by McCullum’s behaviour.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” Jonathan said, regretting not being able to have a drink with them. “I ought to get back to the hospital,” he lied, “but I need a quick word with Mr McCullum first.”

Before Geoffrey could say anything, Richardson reassuringly patted the hunter’s back. “No problem, we’ll wait for you inside,” he said, trying not to grin. It would surely be amusing to watch McCullum struggle through a civil conversation with the leech doctor, but if left alone he might just be able to behave. He pushed McIntyre through the door, though once the door had closed behind them, the two guards couldn’t help but giggle. Of course Geoffrey heard them.

“So what did you want to talk about?” he asked, defiantly crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Jonathan shifted uncomfortably. “I must apologise for last night,” he began. “I was angry at you for attacking me for no reason,” he ignored Geoffrey’s annoyed snort, “but… kissing you wasn’t very gentlemanly. Please forgive me for overstepping.” He watched as the hunter’s face curiously changed colour; he turned pale, then blushed and turned pale again.

Geoffrey knew the leech could see exactly what was going on within him, and he hated himself for the betrayal of his body. Horror and shame washed over him when he suddenly realised that he wanted nothing more than hold this man close again, feel and smell and taste him. His heart nearly stopped at the shock of realisation, and he took a step back. He’d sooner bite off his own tongue than tell the leech that he’d quite enjoyed his… ungentlemanly behaviour. “Don’t ever touch me again, feckin’ leech,” he hissed instead, “I will rip out your undead heart and feed it to you if you try anything like that ever again.”

Jonathan had expected the hunter to be angry, but not like that, and the hateful words hurt more than he was ready to admit even to himself. “I’m really sorry, I know I shouldn’t—”

“I don’t give a fuck about what you should or shouldn’t, leech, and I don’t give a fuck about your apology, I don’t need it and I don’t want it! Stay away from me, or I swear I will make you wish you’d never been born!” Geoffrey spat. He watched the doctor retreat a step, staring at him. His complexion turned even paler than it usually was, if that was even possible.

“I never—” Jonathan whispered, interrupting himself. “I will— I’m—,” he stammered huskily, then stepped back, giving the hunter a pained look, before he disappeared in a cloud of smoke. “Farewell, Geoffrey.”

For a long moment, McCullum just stood there, staring at the empty space before him; he wasn’t sure whether he’d really heard or just imagined those last two words, but with a helpless gasp he realised that he could just as well have ripped out his own heart, that treacherous bastard, and thrown it at the leech’s feet. He suddenly felt sick, and a cold fear spread within him, stinging in his chest and tightening his throat. He swallowed hard, then turned to enter the Turquoise Turtle.

Both guards saw that something was wrong the moment their leader came through the door. He went straight to the bar, asking Tom for a bottle of Scotch, which he brought over to their table.

“What happened?” Richardson asked, putting a hand on Geoffrey’s shoulder. “You didn’t murder him, did you?”

It was meant as a joke, but the Irishman just absentmindedly shook his head. “No, I didn’t,” the croaked as he filled his glass. He downed the drink in one gulp and quickly refilled the glass.

The two guards looked at each other. This was going to be an unpleasant evening for sure; there was no use trying to keep McCullum sober, and there was no use asking him what had happened. The worse he felt, the worse he behaved, and their best bet would be to make sure to get him home safely. So they stuck to their pints while Geoffrey emptied one glass after the other until he was too drunk to refill it. He shoved the bottle and his glass over to McIntyre.

“I think you’ve had enough for tonight,” the guard said.

Geoffrey looked at him with glassy eyes. “Jus’ one more,” the mumbled. If he was going to be wasted, he might as well do so properly, he figured.

McIntyre sighed and poured his leader another drink. “All right, one more. But we’re going home after that.” He hated it when Geoffrey drank so much – he was always a pain in the arse when drunk, but, being miserable and hungover the next day, he’d be downright insufferable. Maybe the fresh air would help, the guard hoped as he got up and put on his coat. “Now come on, Geoff, let’s get you back,” he said softly, helping the Irishman stand.

Geoffrey nearly fell over, and both guards were relieved to get him outside without him throwing up in the bar. The cool air of the night seemed to help indeed, and even though he couldn’t stand straight, he seemed to sober up a little bit.

“Mus’ go to t’Pem’roke, nee’ t’talk wi’ Reid,” Geoffrey slurred, starting to walk in the direction of the hospital.

“Oh no you don’t, Geoff,” Richardson said, grabbing him by the arm, holding him back as much as steading him. “You can go tomorrow, when you’re sober.”

Geoffrey mumbled something about wanting to go now rather than tomorrow and tried to escape Richardson’s grasp, fighting weakly, but the two guards just slung his arms over their shoulders, half carrying, half dragging him back to Priwen headquarters.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr Reid is about to leave London, so McCullum better be his best self next time they meet.

McCullum didn’t go to the Pembroke the next day, or the day after. Once he sobered up, he realised that he didn’t have the courage to seek out and face Dr Reid. He went on patrol every night in the hope of coming across the Ekon, but Reid never showed up. More than once the hunter thought he could feel a familiar presence, but whenever he turned around, there was nobody there. The days seemed to drag on endlessly. One night Geoffrey even tried to lure the doctor out of wherever he was hiding by venturing into the sewers alone, but all that got him was a few bruises, cuts and a coat that needed to be mended – again.

He had been too reckless, he knew that. And he also knew that his men worried about him. Somehow, though, he didn’t really care. He went on patrol alone so he wouldn’t have to deal with their unwanted questions or the anxious looks they shot him when they thought he didn’t notice. He didn’t go to the Turquoise Turtle anymore; the bar was too crowded and too loud and it reminded him of his last encounter with Reid – drinking alone was much better. He spent a few nights on the cemetery, even lurked around the grave of Reid’s sister, vaguely hoping that the Ekon would eventually show up, but with every night that passed uneventfully, his hope crumbled a little more. He knew his behaviour was stupid and ultimately put not only himself at risk, but his men, too.

Even though none of them had openly questioned Geoffrey, let alone dared to ask what was wrong with him, everybody – except, it seemed, McCullum himself – knew that something had to be done.

It was Captain Richardson who was charged with the thankless task of talking to McCullum.

He was sitting in front of McCullum’s desk, observing his leader. He claimed he was mending his coat, and he did have needle and thread in his hand, but really seemed miles away; in fact he was just sitting at his desk, coat draped over his knees, doing nothing but stare blindly.

“The lads are making bets.” Fred said, breaking his reverie.

“Bets?” Geoffrey asked warily, looking up.

“On who broke your heart.”

Geoffrey groaned. For a moment he was tempted to tell Fred that he was doing just fine, but then he gave a heavy sigh and rubbed his face in despair. “Did that myself,” he muttered after a short while.

Fred nodded. “Hm-m, figured as much.”

“So you won?” Geoffrey didn’t sound like he cared about the bet in the least.

“I’m afraid I didn’t join their game.” Fred gave his leader a sympathetic smile. “Would you like to… talk about it?” he asked carefully. When Geoffrey shook his head, he continued, “Well, I guess you’ll still want to know that Reid left the Pembroke.”

“He what?” Geoffrey turned visibly pale. “What do you mean, he ‘left the Pembroke’?”

“He resigned after the death of his mother.”

“What? His mother died? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

The captain raised a brow. “Didn’t think you cared. _You_ keep telling us how much you despise the doctor and—”

“I don’t _despise_ Reid,” Geoffrey snapped. “And even if I did, don’t you think it would have been relevant information that he left the hospital? God knows what he’s up to!”

“Well, I’m telling you now,” Fred replied defensively. “I only know because Duncan went to the hospital last night, and when he didn’t find Dr Reid, he asked around and—”

“All right, I get it,” Geoffrey growled. “So what do you want me to do?”

Fred hesitated a moment before he spoke. “Geoff… whatever there is between you and Dr Reid,” he ignored McCullum’s angry glare, continuing, “I honestly don’t think it’s any of my business. But I can see that ever since that night at the Turquoise Turtle you… you aren’t doing well. The lads are worried about you, too. Personally, I think you should talk to him, get this off your chest – whatever _this_ is.”

Geoffrey swallowed hard. “But he’s gone, isn’t he?”

“Try his home. Duncan said something that he might still be there.”

This wasn’t quite the truth, though Fred didn’t think it necessary to tell Geoffrey that Duncan had actually looked for Reid not only in the hospital, but asked after him in the Turquoise Turtle and Sean Hampton’s shelter as well – it had been the Sad Saint who’d told him about the doctor’s plans of leaving London altogether. The captain didn’t know whether Reid was still at his family’s residence, but he hoped that even for a leech it would take longer than a day to pack his bags.

“If you really want to catch him before he’s off, I’d probably not wait another day if I were you,” Fred said, getting up. He waited for Geoffrey to acknowledge what he’d said, then he turned to the door to leave. “Just think before you talk this time, all right?” he added, more as a reassurance than a warning.

* * *

McCullum took his friend’s advice, knowing that he really had no choice. He obviously wouldn’t have admitted it, but he was honest enough to himself to know that he wouldn’t forgive himself if he just let Reid leave.

Still, he felt decidedly uneasy when he approached the mansion, went up the steps and rang the bell. He nervously looked around, hoping nobody would see him. He didn’t like the West End –not so much the area itself as its inhabitants, mainly because they always seemed to look at him as if he’d just crawled out of some gutter or was planning to rob them of their valuables or their life.

The door opened before he could change his mind and leave.

“Yes?” An elderly man stood in the doorway, eyeing him suspiciously. Geoffrey had never seen him, but he assumed it was one of the Reids’ doubtlessly countless servants.

“I’m looking for Dr Reid, is he in?” he asked, doing his best not to let his nervousness show.

“And who shall I say is requesting the master’s presence?”

“Geoffrey McCullum.”

If the man recognised the name, he didn’t let it show, but he opened the door and begged Geoffrey to enter the house, asking him to wait in the hall while he fetched “the master.”

Geoffrey looked around uneasily – clearly, the Reid family was well off. He wondered what the leech would do with it now that—

“The master awaits you upstairs. He has a train to catch so he does not have much time, Mr McCullum,” the butler interrupted his thoughts. “It’s down the corridor, the last door on the left.”

Geoffrey thanked him and went upstairs; for a second he wished that the butler would leave so he could turn around and flee, but the man just stood there, observing him unobtrusively. At least he hadn’t come from the sewers, Geoffrey reassured himself, and his boots were clean, too. Still, his heart was beating much faster than usual, and his hands were sweaty from the nervousness. To his horror, he realised that he didn’t even know what to say to Reid.

“McCullum!” the leech’s voice startled him. Reid stood in the open door, clearly surprised but wary as well. “What do you want?”

Geoffrey swallowed. “I’ve come to talk to you, Dr Reid.”

“Do you need medical assistance?” Jonathan gave him a suspicious look. He could tell McCullum wasn’t well, but there were no signs of illness.

“No, I’m quite all right.” Geoffrey cleared his voice. “I heard your mother died. I’m sorry for your loss,” he began hesitantly.

Jonathan gave a nod, but he didn’t say anything.

“I’ve also been told that you left the Pembroke?”

Jonathan shrugged. “What is it to you? I haven’t fed off any humans in the hospital, and I’m not planning to do so elsewhere. And since you _know_ that,” he growled, “I wonder why you’ve come, McCullum.”

“I’ve come to apologise,” Geoffrey said. “I, uhh—,” he broke off, unsure of how to continue. “Why did you quit the hospital, Reid?”

Jonathan slightly shook his head, clenching his jaw. “McCullum, I really don’t have time for this, I need to catch the train, so, please, enlighten me, why are you _really_ here?”

“I behaved like a bastard, I know that. And… I’m sorry I said those things to you at the Turtle, I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Yes, you did,” Jonathan replied quietly.

“I’m an idiot, Reid, I… I just wanted to hurt you. You got too close and—”

“If you’re asking for an apology—”

“I’m not,” Geoffrey said adamantly. For the first time, he didn’t try to avoid Reid’s gaze. “I despise myself for… for liking you, for liking a leech and for hurting you and trying to kill you. I’m the leader of the Guard of Priwen, I _should_ be trying to kill you, but I…,” he swallowed, “I don’t want to, not anymore.” He broke off, waiting for Reid to say something, anything, but the Ekon remained silent. “Please don’t leave,” he eventually said almost inaudibly.

“Give me one reason to stay, McCullum,” Jonathan huffed, not sure whether he really wanted the hunter to list any reasons.

“This city needs you.” Geoffrey hesitated before he continued in a whisper. “Damn, _I_ need you!”

Jonathan was tempted to dismiss the hunter’s reply, but then decided otherwise. “You need me? You don’t even trust me.”

“Because you’re a bl… because you’re a leech,” Geoffrey replied defensively. “How could I ever trust you?”

Jonathan sighed, then he nodded and turned to resume his packing, but McCullum grabbed his sleeve.

“I need you, Reid, because you’re the only one who can end this feckin’ epidemic for good. You’ve ended the Disaster and have taken care of most of the leech problem, and you’re the only who cares and is capable and… I know you _will_ end this madness,” Geoffrey blurted out. He felt a sudden urge to pull the leech close, but instead let go of his sleeve and just stood there, breathing heavily, feeling all weak in his knees and waiting for the Ekon to react.

Jonathan looked at him carefully, suddenly realising that the hunter was about to collapse. “When was the last time you ate something?” he asked, apparently unable to shrug off his professional habits no matter how much the hunter annoyed him.

Geoffrey rubbed his eyes. “I—I don’t know… not today anyway,” he muttered defeatedly.

“Come on then,” Jonathan said resolutely, putting a hand on Geoffrey’s back to lead him down the corridor.

“I’m not eating here, leech,” Geoffrey protested, though there was neither fight nor venom in his voice.

“You are. Doctor’s orders,” Jonathan said. “Don’t worry, Avery and I are not into the same… diet,” he reassured Geoffrey as he led him downstairs.

“Master Jonathan!” Avery gave them a surprised look. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, Mr McCullum here’s just hungry.”

“I can make something if—,” the butler offered, only to be cut off by Jonathan.

“No, it’s fine, thank you, I’ll take care of it myself.”

“But you’re going to miss your train, Master Jonathan!”

Jonathan shrugged dismissively. “I can take the next one, Avery, don’t worry,” he said, pushing McCullum towards the kitchen.

“Now sit down,” he ordered, pulling back a chair and motioning the Priwen leader to have a seat. “I’ll make you something.”

“You can cook?” Geoffrey gave him a surprised look as he reluctantly sat down.

“I haven’t always been a _bloody leech_ , you know,” Jonathan replied. He looked almost apologetic, Geoffrey thought.

“Why are you doing this, Reid? Treating me like a… guest. Feeding me. Cooking for me, actually,” he wondered out loud.

Jonathan sighed, but he didn’t reply. It wasn’t that he didn’t have an answer, but it wasn’t an answer that would have made sense to the hunter. It didn’t even make sense to himself. As he prepared dinner – scrambled eggs, buttered bread and an apple – he thought about it; he could have told McCullum that he was simply following the oath he’d once sworn, but he knew that was only half the truth at best. He wondered why McCullum had really come; he didn’t seem like the type to apologise for anything.

“So you like me, huh?” he asked.

“What?” Geoffrey looked at him, confused.

“You said you despised yourself for liking me,” Jonathan clarified.

Geoffrey huffed, painfully aware of the fact that he couldn’t – or at least shouldn’t – deny having said it. “Well, I haven’t killed you yet, have I?” he evaded.

Jonathan only gave him a hollow laugh at that.

“All right, all right” Geoffrey muttered, “we both know I tried and failed,” he admitted. “All I’m saying is… I’m glad I failed… I think.” He waited while Jonathan put a plate with the eggs and bread before him, sat down opposite him and began slicing the apple, putting the pieces next to Geoffrey’s plate. The Ekon didn’t say anything, and Geoffrey knew he’d have to do better if he _really_ wanted to apologise. “After we met at the Turtle… after I told you to fuck off… I didn’t think you would,” he began quietly. “I meant to apologise to you that night, but I was so pissed I could hardly stand up, and the lads wouldn’t let me, thankfully. After that I just… I was afraid to visit the Pembroke and talk to you. I thought I could get your attention if I only got into fights often enough, but you never showed up.”

Jonathan swallowed. Of course he’d known about Geoffrey’s fights, and it had taken all of his willpower to not intervene and instead look on as the hunter got hurt. He’d never thought – dared to hope, actually – that Geoffrey had him in mind when he so recklessly toyed with his own life. He studied the man before him, surprised at the sudden outbreak of honesty.

“I know I deserved it,” Geoffrey continued. “I was hoping it’d get better after a while… but it just didn’t.”

“What didn’t get better?” Jonathan’s eyes narrowed.

“I, uh,” Geoffrey cleared his throat and fell silent, absentmindedly staring at the food. As he grabbed a slice of the apple and bit into the fruit, its juice spreading in his mouth, he suddenly realised that this – the concern for his well-being, making him food, missing his train – was perhaps Reid’s way of giving him another chance. He chewed slowly, then he looked up. He felt almost naked under the Ekon’s scrutinising gaze, his unnaturally pale eyes looking nowhere near as dead as they should have. “Missing you,” he finally answered Jonathan’s question in a husky voice. “I thought it was just because of the drink, and the fight we had when… when you… when you kissed me, I was so angry that I just don’t stand a chance against you when killing leeches is all I’ve ever done. I was angry at you for showing me mercy in the attic, and later, too, it just didn’t make any sense to me – it… it doesn’t make sense. _You_ don’t make sense.”

“Of course I don’t,” Jonathan whispered, more to himself than to the hunter. He had died, and yet here he was, feeling more alive than he had for a long time. McCullum was right, it didn’t make sense. “So you would have preferred me to kill you? Or turn you? Just so you’d ‘ve been right about me?” he asked aloud, feeling that he already knew the answer.

“I did at the time,” Geoffrey admitted, speaking even more quietly than before. “I hate all that you are,” he looked up, “but I cannot hate _you_ , Reid. Not after all you’ve done for this city and its people. I was just too feckin’… stupid to admit that.”

Jonathan sighed. All this didn’t exactly sound like an apology, but he could tell that McCullum was trying hard. Surely the fact that he hadn’t even attempted to irritate him counted for something. “You should eat up before it gets cold,” Jonathan said, pointing his head at the plate.

He made tea while Geoffrey was eating; they didn’t talk, but the silence wasn’t unpleasant. It was only when he put a steaming cup of tea in front of the hunter that Geoffrey began to speak.

“So, now that you are technically unemployed… Would you care to work for us, Dr Reid?” He gave the Ekon a tentative yet sly grin.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Y’know, I was thinking,” Geoffrey continued, holding the cup in both hands, taking a sip. “We could use someone with your skills – as a leech and as a doctor.” It sounded like a challenge.

“You must be joking, McCullum,” Jonathan replied, unsure whether he should be amused or annoyed.

Geoffrey shook his head almost imperceptible. “We really do need you here,” he said, this time avoiding speaking for himself alone. “Besides, I don’t really want to let you out of my sight again.” He made it sound like a threat, but when Jonathan looked at him, he couldn’t fail to notice a sparkle of amusement in the Irishman’s eyes.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. My encounters with your lot so far were far from pleasant, I don’t think your men would—”

“My men do what I tell them to do,” Geoffrey interrupted him, knowing full well that while they usually did more or less what he told them, he could never _order_ his men to like Reid. “Either way,” he cleared his throat, “maybe you could… join our patrols from time to time? That might help the men to trust you a bit more,” he added carefully. Judging by Reid’s expression, the leech understood exactly whose trust he was meant to gain by helping out Priwen.

“All right,” Jonathan hummed. “I’ll see what I can do about that.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Geoffrey got a dinner date with his favourite leech.

“You’re looking posh tonight, Geoff?!” McIntyre grinned when he spotted Geoffrey trying to sneak out of the building.

The Irishman growled.

“Is that your date with Dr Reid?” the brawler smirked, suggestively raising an eyebrow.

“It’s not a date!” Geoffrey snapped, glaring at him.

“Come on, Geoff, I’m just fooling around,” McIntyre gave him an apologetic smile. He knew how much McCullum hated it when anybody mentioned his friendship with “his favourite leech,” as the lads liked to call the doctor when their leader was around. “I’m just jealous, you know that.”

“Yeah, right… jealous,” Geoffrey rolled his eyes.

“Of you, having your evening off,” McIntyre clarified, giving an innocent smile, though they both knew he hadn’t referred to that.

“Don’t you have anything to do?” Geoffrey’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. He wouldn’t have put it past Mac to follow him in secret just to make sure he’d be all right.

The brawler laughed. “Yeah, I do, promised Duncan to help out in the kitchen. You have a jolly date with Dr Reid!” he grinned and disappeared before the Irishman could reply anything.

Geoffrey made sure not to cross paths with anyone else from the Guard on his way to the West End, knowing full well that all that would get him were more conspiratorial looks and ambiguous hints. God knows he deserved it, behaving as if he had a crush on the leech.

He _was_ excited about meeting Reid for dinner, true, he just didn’t need any of his men to know about, let alone comment on it – not that he hadn’t given them reason enough to do so.

When Reid joined their patrols soon after having agreed to help Priwen, their peace had been a fragile one. While his men had come to appreciate the doctor being at their side soon enough, Geoffrey just couldn’t bring himself to trust the man completely. That is, until that night he’d suddenly realised that despite his distrust, things had changed between him and the leech.

The evening had begun like most of their nights out together.

That night, it had only been him and McIntyre on patrol, though they were soon joined by the doctor. As usual, Reid seemed happy to join them, though Geoffrey was never sure whether he enjoyed their company, the fights or the feeding. It was comforting to know the leech was on their side, though, and watching him fight, becoming all unbridled shadow and darkness, was beautifully terrifying. The leech was well capable of taking care of the other bloodsuckers on his own, but since he always jokingly pouted that he had to “do all the work alone,” Geoffrey never hesitated to join a fight.

He hadn’t minded this time, either, appreciating the challenge of fighting two sewer beasts along with Reid and McIntyre. The beasts had become a rare occurrence, even in the sewers, but that didn’t make them any less dangerous.

_Jonathan let the second beast drop to the ground, carefully licking his lips and wiping his mouth before he turned around._

_“You’re hurt,” he said, looking at Geoffrey._

_“It’s fine,” the hunter muttered, stifling a groan when he moved his arm to sheathe the sword._

_“Let me have a look.” Jonathan stepped closer._

_“Back off, I’m fine!” Geoffrey growled._

_“I can_ smell _the blood, McCullum.”_

_“Well I’m not letting you have a look!” Geoffrey took a step back. “Not here anyway, and not with leech blood all over the place,” he added quietly._

_“We’ll get you to the hospital,” Jonathan offered, hoping that the Irishman would be more inclined to let one of the nurses tend to the injury._

_“The Pembroke? Are you mad? They employ bloody leech doctors there, who knows what—”_

_“Just the one bloody leech doctor, actually, and he quit,” Jonathan corrected him politely, giving the Priwen leader an innocent look._

_“Well, even that was one leech too many,” Geoffrey grumbled, ignoring McIntyre, who failed to bite back a chuckle. “I’ll have one of our medics look at it,” he said, inhaling sharply as another stab of pain shot through his arm. “Can we go now? I need a drink.”_

_“Suit yourself,” Jonathan mumbled, rolling his eyes. He didn’t think it was a good idea to get a drink before checking on McCullum’s wound, but he knew it was pointless arguing with the stubborn bastard._

_As they made their way out of the sewer system, the scent of Geoffrey’s blood became heavier, so much that Jonathan could almost feel it on his tongue. He could sense the tension in the hunter’s body, how he clenched his jaw in pain and tried not to move his arm. “McCullum,” he said when they stood in the fresh air again, “let me at least stop the bleeding. Please.”_

_McCullum was silent for a moment, eyeing the Ekon warily. “All right,” he finally gave in reluctantly, “but I won’t go to your feckin’ hospital. And I’d rather have a drink first.”_

_“Can’t we go by your home, Dr Reid?” McIntyre asked anxiously – if Geoff was willing to let the “bloody leech doctor” take care of his injury, he wasn’t doing well. “It’s closer than our place. And we can always go to the Turtle afterwards, right?” he suggested, shooting Geoffrey a pleading look._

_Jonathan just nodded, biting back a comment about inviting the leader of the Priwen Guard into his vampire lair. It was only a short walk, and he had all the necessary equipment at his home. Besides, he could smell that McCullum was still bleeding; it was better for the both of them if he wasn’t tempted longer than necessary._

_The Reid mansion was dark when they arrived. Avery had already gone to bed – a new habit since Jonathan had finally managed to convince the old butler that he wouldn’t be needing him in the middle of the night._

_McIntyre was impressed by the interior of the house; he seemed almost intimidated and insisted he would wait in the hall, apologetically pointing to his boots, though they weren’t even dirty. Jonathan told him to wait in the kitchen instead, help himself to whatever food he wanted, promising he and McCullum would be back soon._

_Following the Ekon upstairs, Geoffrey was almost relieved that he’d be alone with Reid – for some odd reason even he didn’t fully understand, he didn’t want the brawler to see him trust the leech._

_“Please, take a seat,” Jonathan said softly._

_“You almost sound like a doctor, Reid,” Geoffrey remarked as he sat down on the bed. He watched the Ekon carefully wash his hand and prepare the things he would need, his heart beating faster in anticipation of whatever was to come. It felt strangely intimate to be in the leech’s room, sitting on his bed, waiting._

_To his surprise, the first thing Reid did was offer him a glass of Scotch._

_“Didn’t know you still drank this,” the Irishman said, taking the glass. It was good whisky, probably none that he could ever hope to afford._

_“I don’t, I just keep a few bottles to lure hapless Priwen leaders into traps,” Jonathan replied as he turned and helped Geoffrey take off his coat._

_“So there’s more than this one bottle?”_

_“Only if you ask nicely, McCullum.”_

_“Over my dead body!” he growled, unable to suppress a smug grin._

_The alcohol helped him relax, and, to his surprise, so did Reid when he took off Geoffrey’s scarf and unbuttoned his shirt. He was gentle and deliberate, and even though his hands were unnaturally cold, his touch was soothing. He helped him take off the shirt, too, gingerly lifting the fabric where it stuck to the wound. Fresh blood oozed out of the cut, running down Geoffrey’s arm._

_“I’d rather not ruin the sheets,” Geoffrey said, worriedly glancing at the trail of blood._

_“It’s all right,” Jonathan reassured him, “I’ll lick it off later.”_

_“You’re a disgustin’ bastard, Reid,” Geoffrey shook his head in mock revulsion, but his tone was soft, and he didn’t try to hide his amusement. The mischievous smile the Ekon gave him made his heart skip a few beats, and he suddenly found it hard to breathe when Reid sat down next to him._

_“I’ll need to clean this, it’ll hurt,” Jonathan said. “Do you want something?”_

_The hunter shook his head, then emptied his glass in one gulp._

_Watching the doctor work seemed to help with the pain. Reid was fully concentrated on the wound, his face calm and focused. It did hurt, but Geoffrey could tell that the leech did everything to cause as little pain as possible. And he was good at what he did – no wonder Swansea had been so eager to hire him, dead or not._

_By the time he was finished and began bandaging Geoffrey’s arm, a pulsing numb pain had set in, making every movement painful._

_“Give it a few days’ rest, stay in if you can, and let your medics check in a day or two – or if the pain gets worse,” Jonathan said as he got up to finish wrapping the hunter’s arm and shoulder. He inadvertently felt the stiffness in McCullum’s shoulders and neck, and before Jonathan realised what he was doing, he had put both his hands on his shoulders and began tentatively massaging the tense muscles with his thumb._

_Geoffrey wanted to jerk away and protest as soon as he felt the Ekon’s cool hands so near his neck, but then he just leaned into the touch, letting Reid gently loosen his muscles. The leech’s hands gradually became warmer as he rubbed his shoulders, back and neck, and Geoffrey only realised he was drifting off to sleep when Reid stepped away._

_“I’ll give you one of my shirts, if you don’t mind,” he said. His gaze was searching, but Geoffrey knew it wasn’t about the shirt at all._

_“I don’t,” Geoffrey said, getting up. He took the shirt Jonathan was holding out to him, thankful that Reid helped him put it on._

_“I think it would be better if you didn’t go to the Turtle,” Jonathan suggested._

_“It certainly would,” Geoffrey grimaced, “but when was I ever reasonable?”_

_Reid just laughed at that, which in turn got him a fond smile from the Priwen leader – Geoffrey had never heard such a carefree laugh from the Ekon, and he liked it. “Besides,” he continued, “I have a doctor to look after me. You will join us for a drink, won’t you, Dr Reid?”_

_Jonathan sighed, lightly shrugging his shoulders. “I can’t – drink, I mean.”_

_“Come with us anyway,” Geoffrey replied quietly, “I’d appreciate your company.”_

McCullum remembered now how he had half expected Reid to contradict him, but then the Ekon had just helped him put on the coat and wrapped the scarf around his neck. And it had been a very pleasant evening, even though his arm had throbbed with pain the whole time. Reid had even made sure both he and Mac got home safely, accompanying them as far as the gate leading to the premises of the Priwen Guard – by then, Geoffrey wasn’t even concerned anymore that the leech knew the whereabouts of their headquarters.

Having arrived at the Reid mansion, Geoffrey looked around. He was nervous, even though he told himself that he’d only come here to have the stitches taken out – the dinner was only… He didn’t know what it was, but he tried to tell himself that it didn’t mean anything. For a short moment, he wondered whether he was grateful or not that the medics had told him it’d be better if Reid checked the injury one last time and removed the stitches himself. They had _looked_ all professional about it, but Geoffrey suspected their motives hadn’t been medical, at all. He huffed in annoyance, refusing to admit that he was actually looking forward to the opportunity to spend some time with Reid.

Ignoring the feeling of excitement in his guts, he quickly crossed the street, went up the steps and rang the bell.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan turns out to be a pretty good cook, and Geoffrey can be surprisingly polite even towards leeches when he chooses to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to cut the chapter in half, so the ending might be a tad abrupt - hope you'll enjoy it anyway!

Geoffrey had barely removed his hand from the bell when the door flew open.

“Am I late?” the hunter asked, slightly confused. The leech seemed to have been waiting for him.

“No,” Jonathan gave him a grin. “I’ll be with you in a moment, won’t you come in?” He stepped aside, motioning McCullum to enter.

“About that dinner…,” Geoffrey began.

“Changed your mind?” Jonathan turned around to look at the hunter, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.

“What? No,” Geoffrey shook his head, closing the door behind him, “of course I haven’t changed my mind.”

“Then what is it?”

Geoffrey took off his coat. “Would you mind checking on my arm? Remove the stitches?”

Jonathan nodded. He didn’t say anything, but as he went up the stairs with the hunter in tow, he suddenly seemed decidedly uncomfortable.

“So, about that dinner,” Geoffrey began as they stood in Reid’s office and bedroom, “I don’t think it’s a good idea, y’know?” Before Jonathan could reply, he went on. “This is the West End, Reid, look at me – I am wearing my best clothes, but I’m no match for you. You and me going out together… people will talk.”

Jonathan’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care about what people say,” he muttered.

“Perhaps you don’t,” Geoffrey admitted, “but you don’t want me behaving like an ass in your posh neighbourhood, do you? And I _will_ , if you drag me to a restaurant – I can’t help it.” He shrugged apologetically.

“You mean there is a polite version of you?” Jonathan said in mock surprise.

“Of course,” Geoffrey raised an eyebrow, giving the Ekon a challenging look while taking off his coat, “when I’m not dealing with obnoxious bloodsuckers.”

“Well, that definitely rules me out,” Jonathan huffed.

“Oh? Could have fooled me,” Geoffrey muttered under his breath. “Anyway, listen, Reid, don’t get me wrong, I want to have dinner with you, I’d just… rather not go to a restaurant.”

The Ekon furrowed his brows. “If you’re embarrassed to be seen with me, or don’t want to—”

“I told you, it’s not that. I just really don’t like the way people look at me here,” Geoffrey interrupted quietly, avoiding Jonathan’s eyes. He didn’t say that he was much more worried about the leech being embarrassed by being seen with the Priwen leader in public rather than the other way around.

“We can go to the Turtle instead, if you prefer that,” Jonathan suggested.

“Actually,” Geoffrey hesitated, “I would prefer to stay here.” He suddenly felt very unsure about this whole endeavour, but before he could question Reid’s motives about inviting him in the first place, Jonathan gave him a crooked smile.

“My cooking is definitely inferior to the place I had intended to take you to,” he said.

“I did enjoy the last time you cooked,” Geoffrey said.

“Oh, the apple was delicious, huh?” Jonathan rolled his eyes, motioning the hunter to sit down on the bed. “Let’s take care of those stitches first,” he said, before Geoffrey could reply anything. “Does your arm still hurt?

“No, it’s fine,” Geoffrey said, unbuttoning and taking off his shirt without hesitation. “Bit stiff though, and the cut itches.”

Like before, it felt strangely intimate when the doctor sat down next to him, but Geoffrey didn’t feel uncomfortable, not even when the Ekon’s unnaturally cool hands touched his arm. He suddenly realised what had always struck him as odd about Reid – unlike other Ekons, he didn’t have that repulsive whiff of death about him; usually, he just smelled of soap or disinfectant and… himself, Geoffrey guessed.

“The wound’s healed nicely,” Jonathan observed, oblivious of the hunter’s gaze. “Your medics could have removed the stitches earlier.”

Geoffrey only grumbled in reply and looked away. He didn’t think Reid would be thrilled to know the medics’ _real_ motives for refusing to do what was essentially their job at Priwen.

“Hang on, I’ll put some ointment on it,” Jonathan said as he got up to put his tools away when he was done. “It should help with the itch.” Sitting down again, he reached for Geoffrey’s arm, applying cool salve onto the healing tissue, gently rubbing it in. “The scar will remain, but I guess it’ll hardly make a difference,” he remarked, absentmindedly tracing some of the hunter’s older scars on his arm and shoulder – mostly cuts and a few bite marks.

“It won’t,” Geoffrey assured. His words got Jonathan back to the present, and the Ekon stood abruptly, stepping away from him. He seemed embarrassed. “Thank you for taking care of this,” the hunter continued, “at least you’ll have made it a neat scar, unlike the Priwen butchers.” For a moment, he thought about asking Reid again to work for Priwen, because they really _could_ use a man with his talents, but Jonathan spoke first.

“Are you sure you want to stay here for dinner?”

Geoffrey shrugged. He was, but at the same time he wondered whether this was even appropriate – socially and otherwise. Things had been so much easier when he and the leech had been on belligerent terms. “If it’s not a bother?” he finally replied, more gruffly than intended.

Jonathan shook his head. “No, not at all. I…,” he hesitated, then broke off. He was happy that the hunter wanted to stay, though he assumed the Irishman wouldn’t appreciate him spelling that out. “So what would you like to eat? I’m not sure there’ll be much of a choice though, I have no idea what Avery keeps in the kitchen. Are you even hungry?”

Geoffrey nodded. “I’m starving,” he admitted, “I’ll eat anything, as long as it isn’t leech food.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “Avery might still be awake, I can ask him to cook. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to—"

“Don’t bother,” Geoffrey interrupted, putting his shirt on again, “there’s no need to wake him.”

“Fine,” Jonathan said, secretly relieved, “let’s get started then.”

“So, Reid,” Geoffrey began when they stood in the kitchen, Jonathan rummaging through various drawers, “how nicely do I have to ask to get some of that delicious Scotch you keep?”

“Ah, so _that’s_ why you wanted to stay for dinner.”

“Aye,” Geoffrey grinned, “why else?”

“Indeed,” Jonathan said dryly. “The bottle is in my on my desk – I trust you’ll find it, won’t you.” Before Geoffrey could say anything, he continued: “While you get it, I’ll see if I can find something decent to eat for you.”

Good thing Avery still made sure to at least have some normal food in the house, Jonathan thought as he stood in the pantry, cursing himself silently for not having to eat. He also cursed McCullum a bit for wanting to have dinner here – how on earth should he come up with a nice meal, and one that the hunter really liked? He went through every container, discarding the beans, buckwheat, flour and bread, finally going for potatoes instead. The only vegetables he found were a handful of carrots and an onion. For a second, Jonathan wondered whether Avery actually ate anything at all, considering how little food there was, then he shook his head and decided to try his luck in the cellar.

Apparently, Avery _did_ eat, Jonathan surmised as he rummaged through the icebox. He took a small pack of meat without checking what it contained, assuming McCullum wasn’t a picky eater, and the bottle of milk. Carefully closing the box, he gave a contented hum. Perhaps this dinner wouldn’t turn out so badly after all, he thought, as he went back upstairs to the kitchen.

“Already started drinking without me, McCullum?” Jonathan stated when he beheld the hunter leaning against the kitchen table, sipping from his glass of Scotch. Geoffrey gave him such a guilty look that he couldn’t help but laugh. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and peel the potatoes?” he continued before McCullum could apologise, handing him the bowl with potatoes and a peeler.

Given that Reid had agreed to cook for him, Geoffrey decided that it was probably better to not talk back for once. “Certainly. I feel safer with a weapon in my hands anyway,” he added as he sat down at the table and began peeling the potatoes.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Jonathan said as he sat down opposite him, a large cutting board in one hand and an even larger butcher’s knife in the other. He gave him a challenging look, baring his fangs just a little too much to be unintentional, holding up the knife.

Geoffrey acknowledged the irony, shaking his head and giving the Ekon an almost reproachful look. “That’s hardly fair, Reid,” he said and wondered how he had managed to get himself into this mess – the leader of Priwen sitting at a leech’s table, peeling potatoes?

“I think Avery keeps an apron somewhere, should I get it for you?” Jonathan suggested with an innocent smile.

“Fuck you, Reid!” Geoffrey snapped, though his words lacked venom. “You’re on thin ice here,” he warned, threateningly aiming the peeler at the Ekon.

“Hmm, yes,” Jonathan nodded, cutting the meat into thin slices. He enjoyed showing off his surgical cutting skills – it was lucky that Avery always kept the knives sharp – and was childishly proud when he saw the hunter notice them.

“Are you planning to stitch that back together or something?” Geoffrey asked dryly. He knew exactly what Reid was doing, and the realisation that the Ekon was trying to impress him sent a flutter through his stomach. Jonathan just gave him a disarming smile at having been found out and continued to cut the meat.

“Finished peeling the potatoes,” Geoffrey finally announced, “what should I do next? And what’s for dinner anyway?”

“I was thinking mashed potatoes and ragout?” If he could have, Jonathan knew he would have blushed – he had been slightly worried about taking the hunter out for dinner, but this here made him feel even more awkward.

If the Irishman noticed his embarrassment, he didn’t let on. “That sounds lovely,” he just said, “I’ll cut and cook the potatoes then.”

Jonathan nodded, glad also that McCullum at least pretended to feel at home in the kitchen, going through drawers and cupboards to gather what things he needed, rather than ask the master of the house about it – he rightly suspected that Reid was as unfamiliar with the kitchen as he was.

As the hunter switched between making sure the potatoes wouldn’t boil over and peeling the carrots and the onion, Jonathan roasted the meat, eventually added the roughly chopped carrots and onions as well as bay leaves and then deglazed the pan with red wine.

“Will you have some of it?” he asked Geoffrey, pointing at the bottle of wine. “I’m trying to make a proper dinner here, so, please, oblige me.”

“Sure,” Geoffrey nodded. He didn’t usually drink wine and would have preferred to stick to the whisky, but judging by the label he felt it would be a shame to give it a miss. He took the glass Jonathan was offering him, smelling first, taking in the heady scent, then he took a sip. He swilled the wine around in his mouth, tasting berries and wood and warmth, before swallowing slowly. “It’s good,” he finally said in a husky voice, holding the glass out to the Ekon, motioning him to try.

For a moment, Jonathan considered whether this was supposed to be some twisted joke, but the hunter’s face showed no hint of duplicity. Hesitantly he took the glass, smelled the wine just as McCullum had, then carefully let the liquid graze his lips. The taste felt strangely unfamiliar, though he fancied he could detect hints of the coppery taste of blood in it. He took a tiny sip, enjoying the tingling sensation on his tongue before he swallowed. A mischievous smile crossed his face as he gave the glass back. The wine was good indeed.

“The meat smells good,” McCullum said, carefully avoiding the Ekon’s gaze as he took another sip of wine. The room suddenly felt hot. “I guess I’ll let you take care of the potatoes, too, you’re clearly the better cook,” he admitted. “I didn’t think leeches can actually cook.”

“I wish you would stop calling me that,” Jonathan huffed as he checked the potatoes and, satisfied with their consistency, drained the water.

“Well, I’m not going to call you—” Geoffrey began, when the Ekon interrupted him.

“Jonathan.”

“Sorry?” Geoffrey gave him a confused look.

“Call me Jonathan, or,” he added quietly, “Reid, if you must.” He cleared his throat and quickly continued before Geoffrey had a chance to reply, “I learned cooking from my mother, and I always enjoyed it, I guess. You haven’t tried yet though, it might not meet your expectations.”

“Considering the food I’m used to, I’m sure it will,” Geoffrey reassured him. He could tell that the death of his mother weighed heavily on Reid, and he was sorry that he had inadvertently brought up the subject, wishing he knew how to offer his sympathy. “You know, I was thinking,” he began, considering carefully on how to phrase his offer, “we really _could_ use your help. Won’t you work for Priwen?” If the offer surprised – or offended – the Ekon, he hid it well. For a moment, Geoffrey thought Reid would just pass over the comment, completely focused on mashing the potatoes.

“I dare say this is a ridiculous notion,” Jonathan eventually replied, “and I cannot assume you to be serious about it. Even if you were,” he looked up, “I doubt your men would take kindly to a _leech_ in their quarters. Why don’t you set the table instead of mucking around with me?”

“I wasn’t,” Geoffrey huffed. “True, my men won’t take kindly to a leech in our quarters, but they’ll make an exception for a skilled surgeon.” He didn’t say that him being a decent cook would be more than welcome, too. “Incidentally, it was McIntyre who suggested it first— compared to me he is fairly reasonable…,” Geoffrey took a sip of wine. “In short, the offer is genuine. But you needn’t decide now. And I guess you won’t need a plate?”

“No, I won’t,” Jonathan said levelly, mixing some milk with the potatoes and adding salt and nutmeg, then turning to the meat. He added salt and pepper and some quince jelly to the sauce, then turned off the gas. “Dinner’s ready, I think.”

“It smells delicious,” Geoffrey said as he sat down, waiting for Reid to fill his plate and take a seat opposite him at the table. He suddenly felt somewhat bad about having asked the Ekon to cook while he couldn’t even eat any of it himself. “Don’t you miss it? The normal food, I mean,” he asked, trying the potatoes and some meat.

“No, not really, though I wish I could eat normal food,” Jonathan shrugged. “What I really miss is sharing the table with someone.”

“Well, you have me tonight,” Geoffrey said, chewing. “And I wouldn’t mind doing this again some time, because, frankly, this is the best dinner I’ve had in ages.” He looked delighted as he took another sip of wine.

“I’m glad you like it,” Jonathan said. “And I’ll think about your offer – though, you have to admit that the idea of a vampire working for the Guard of Priwen is bizarre.”

“Not really,” Geoffrey corrected him. “I’ve seen you fight, you’re,” ‘magnificent,’ he thought, “useful. I guess Priwen just never had the chance of enlisting an Ekon’s help before. I know, I know,” he defensively held up his hands, “we _do_ usually kill leeches before we get to the job offers.” He hesitated, absentmindedly piercing a piece of carrot with his fork, “You know… I never trusted any feckin’ bloodsuckers enough to even want to talk to one of the sneaky bastards – that is, not until recently.” He gave Reid a guilty smile. “But you have to understand that I have no wish to trust any of the beasts that killed my family.” He swallowed hard. He didn’t want those memories to spoil the evening, and he certainly didn’t want to talk about the night when his father had come home from that last fateful voyage.

“I do,” Jonathan simply said, watching the hunter start eating again, this time a slower, as if he was somehow not hungry anymore. “I never asked for this either,” he muttered, “and I wish you could have met me before all this. If I were half the man I used to be—” He broke off. “I guess I shouldn’t have tried to stay alive so hard when we fought in the attic.” He snorted mirthlessly when he realised the irony of his choice of words. “I dread the day I lose that last shred of humanity that I tell myself I still have, you know? But at least I know you’ll take care of that, won’t you, McCullum.”

Geoffrey looked up, searching the Ekon’s face for any hint of sarcasm, but there wasn’t any. He suddenly understood that Reid thought he had included himself when he was talking about beasts. “If you do lose that ‘last shred of humanity,’ as you call it, I will make sure to end you, even if it’s the last thing I do. To tell you the truth though,” he added carefully, “I’d much rather you didn’t try to get yourself killed, Reid. I told you before, London needs you. And I do, too,” he slowly added. The Ekon remained silent, looking at him as if he were trying to grasp the _true_ meaning behind Geoffrey’s words. “You’re more human than many a man I’ve met, Reid,” the hunter continued, feeling that he had to leave Reid in no doubt about what he really meant. “You may have the skills and… desires of a beast, but you’re no monster.” The words were out before he could stop himself, but now that he heard himself say them, Geoffrey suddenly realised he had subconsciously known them to be true for a while.

“I’m glad you think so,” Jonathan said in a low voice, then he cleared his throat and reached for the bottle of wine. “You will have some more, won’t you? Avery doesn’t drink, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Geoffrey laughed, holding out his glass. He was glad for the change of tone.

“And why would I want to do that?” Jonathan sounded perfectly innocent, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Geoffrey’s heart skipped a few beats. Was Reid really flirting with him? “Your own safety,” he replied levelly, but he knew perfectly well that the Ekon could detect the increased heartbeat. He pretended to focus on his food to hide his face from Reid’s view.

“Indeed,” Jonathan replied, both amused and excited by the Irishman’s unexpected embarrassment. “Will you have some more food, too?” He got up to refill Geoffrey’s plate when the hunter nodded. “I’m glad you like it,” he said.

They were silent for the remainder of the meal, though it didn’t feel wrong or even unpleasant. Geoffrey was very aware of the Ekon’s eyes on him, no matter how much he tried to avoid looking up, and his mind drifted off to that night in the alley. He swallowed the last piece of meat and carrot, put his fork and knife on the empty plate and took a sip of the wine. “You know, it’s hardly fair,” he stated, finally returning Jonathan’s gaze. The Ekon gave him a puzzled look, but before he could inquire about what was ‘hardly fair,’ Geoffrey got up to take his plate away. “Your leechy skills,” he explained, walking over to the sink, trying to sound distracted to take some weight off his words. “You can tell exactly what I feel all the time, when you…”

“I _what_?” Jonathan interrupted him, turning around to look at him. “You think I can tell what you feel?” The thought was so absurd that he laughed. “I can tell that right now your heart is beating faster than usual,” he admitted, “but that could just be because of the wine. Or the fear,” he added teasingly, ignoring the hunter raising an eyebrow. “As for your feelings, Geoffrey…” He trailed off, unsure how to continue and apparently quite unaware of having used McCullum’s first name. “I’ve been wrong about those before,” he finally admitted.

“You have?” Geoffrey asked, going back to the table, even though he knew what Reid meant. He’d seen it in his eyes when he’d told him to fuck off and never get near again. He didn’t expect an answer, but the question seemed to linger heavily in the air, so he refilled his glass, though he didn’t sit down again. He would have liked to ask Jonathan exactly what he’d been wrong about where his feelings were concerned, but he could guess that, too.

“Aren’t you expected back at Priwen?” Jonathan asked him suddenly, stopping his train of thought. “It’s just… I’d hate your men to break down the door and try to kill me because they think I might’ve eaten their leader if you’re not back in time.” He looked genuinely worried.

The Irishman couldn’t help but chuckle at the Ekon’s expression. “No, I’m not expected back,” he shook his head. “And the lads no longer think you’re capable of such a deed anyway. But if you have things to do, don’t let me keep you.” Geoffrey could have kicked himself for his words – true, he didn’t want to keep the doctor from whatever it was he did at night, but he would have preferred to stay a little longer. It felt like they were circling each other, frustratingly unable to say what they _really_ wanted to say. “Though I’d love to finish the wine first, if you don’t mind,” he added.

“I can open another bottle, if you like,” Jonathan suggested, making quite clear that he had no plans for the night that would require Geoffrey to leave. “And let’s go to the drawing room, that’ll be more comfortable than the kitchen.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at the leech's pt. 2 :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally managed to finish this - hope y'all like it.

It was indeed more comfortable here, and warmer, too, Geoffrey thought as he followed the Ekon into the drawing room. A fire was burning, bathing the room in a soft light.

“You have a nice lair,” he said, emptying his glass of wine to hide that he felt somewhat embarrassed and out of place.

Jonathan seemed to notice his discomfiture. “Please, make yourself at home,” he offered, gesturing vaguely, and apologised that he couldn’t play any music because he didn’t want to wake Avery.

Geoffrey didn’t mind the silence, but he told himself that perhaps now was a good moment to take his leave before things became awkward. He didn’t say anything though and instead went over to the large bookshelf to study the titles. It was an impressive collection.

“If there’s anything you’d like to read, I’ll be more than happy to lend you books,” Jonathan said.

“Do you happen to have anything on how to kill Ekons and on sinister leech tricks?” Geoffrey asked without turning around, seemingly absentminded.

“No,” Jonathan said, disappearing in a cloud of smoke. “But I can _show_ you.”

Geoffrey froze as the Ekon reappeared behind him, whispering into his ear.

“Reid, you’re such a creep,” he said, turning around.

“You wanted to learn about leech tricks,” Jonathan pouted.

“I already knew that one.” Geoffrey rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. “Besides—”

“It still took you by surprise though,” the Ekon chuckled. “Considering how easily one can sneak up on you, it’s a miracle you’re still alive.”

Geoffrey did _not_ think it was easy to sneak up on him, but instead of telling Reid so, he admitted, “I guess it is.” He hesitated, then continued, barely audibly. “Why didn’t you kill me in the attic?”

Jonathan sighed and turned away. He didn’t want to talk about that fight, certainly not tonight. “I told you before,” he finally replied, walking over to the settee in front of the fire and sitting down. “I never wanted to hurt you, Geoffrey.”

The hunter joined him and, after hesitating for a second, sat down next to the Ekon. He wasn’t quite drunk, though he wasn’t sober anymore either. He felt comfortable though, perhaps too comfortable. “Why not?” he probed.

“Do we need to talk about this now?” Jonathan groaned. Did he _really_ need to spell it out for the Irishman? Judging by his increased heartbeat and slight blush, McCullum understood perfectly well – but then he’d been wrong about the hunter before.

“We do,” Geoffrey hummed, unable to stop himself.

Jonathan lightly shook his head. “You’re a stubborn prick,” he muttered. “I never wanted to hurt you, because when I first saw you in Swansea’s office, I knew you weren’t the fanatic he claimed you to be. I couldn’t get you out of my head— I hoped that one day you could see past the leech and wouldn’t see me as your enemy anymore.” His voice was almost inaudible now. “I’ve wanted you, Geoffrey McCullum, and if you hadn’t threatened to rip out my heart if I ever dared touch you again, I—”

Without thinking, Geoffrey leaned in and pressed his lips on the Ekon’s mouth. Jonathan didn’t react at first, though he didn’t protest either, but when the hunter put his hands on his cheeks and deepened the kiss, he gave a low moan.

The kiss was hesitant and gentle, but it still left Geoffrey breathless. “You taste nice,” he said huskily.

Jonathan didn’t reply but he pulled the Irishman close, drawing him into a tight embrace. Geoffrey felt the Ekon’s lips and breath against his neck. The gesture felt almost more intimate than the kiss, certainly desperate, and as the cold of Jonathan’s body seeped through layers of cloth, Geoffrey thought of his brother. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered whether maybe, just _maybe_ , there might have been another way, but this wasn’t a thought he’d bear to dwell on. Clenching his jaw, he focused on steadying his breathing again. Jonathan ran a hand over his back. “I’ve missed this so much,” he whispered, so quietly that Geoffrey barely heard the words. He didn’t know whether Reid meant the kiss, the embrace or even just the warmth of another body.

Taking one more deep breath, inhaling the hunter’s scent, Jonathan let go abruptly, as if he felt embarrassed about his confession. “It’s getting late,” he said, sounding almost reluctant.

“Do you want me to go?” Geoffrey asked.

“Your guards are probably missing you by now,” Jonathan replied evasively.

“Nah, they’re not.” They both knew it wasn’t really about the guards.

“You want to stay?” Jonathan asked, furrowing his brows.

“Well, you shouldn’t let me go home on my own in my inebriated state anyway, should you?” Geoffrey said.

“No,” Jonathan hummed, “that’d be irresponsible. I have only one coffin though,” he added, still doubting that the hunter really wanted to stay the night.

“That’s all right. I’ll sleep in your bed then.”

Jonathan looked at the hunter for a moment, surprised. “Geoffrey,” he began hesitantly, “you’re drunk, I don’t think—”

“I’m quite sober,” Geoffrey interrupted him, then suddenly broke into a mischievous grin. “Wait… You think I’m going to regret this, don’t you?” he asked. The Ekon shrugged and nodded slightly. “I won’t. And, inebriated or not, my instincts are _always_ impeccable – as you well know.” He hesitated. “I really want to stay, Jonathan,” Geoffrey finally said, blushing slightly, fully aware that his use of the Ekon’s first name did not go unnoticed.

“All right,” Jonathan replied, voice barely above a whisper. He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling very warm. “Would you like another drink or do you want to sleep?”

Geoffrey thought for a moment. He would certainly have liked another drink but knew he shouldn’t. “I think I’m good,” he said, getting up.

Jonathan opened the door for him and put his hand on the small of the hunter’s back as he walked past. He didn’t remove his hand when they went up the stairs, the hunter leaning into his touch until he was so close the Ekon nearly stumbled over his legs. Clearly, McCullum wasn’t as sober as he claimed to be, but Jonathan could tell that he was at ease – and he certainly didn’t want Geoffrey to change his mind about staying now.

“Will you be needing anything?” he asked when they got into his bedroom and Geoffrey sat down to take off his boots.

“A toothbrush would be nice,” the hunter said, looking up at him. “Yours’ll do,” he added before Jonathan could reply anything.

The fact that Geoffrey didn’t mind using his things – or ask whether _he_ ’d mind – sent a flutter through Jonathan’s stomach. “Of course,” he said, “bathroom is next door. Take whatever you need.”

“You will wait up, won’t you?” the hunter asked as he got up, adding, “I’ll hurry,” when Jonathan nodded.

The bathroom was less luxurious than Geoffrey had assumed, though he was excited to see there was a bathtub. “Posh bastard,” he muttered, shaking his head at the reflection in the mirror. He studied his face for a while, the grin he couldn’t wipe off, the reddened cheeks, and he wondered how he’d ended up here. Reid wasn’t like the other bloodsuckers, true, but he knew that this hadn’t stopped him from trying to actually kill the doctor. He didn’t know when his abhorrence had turned into affection—his face heated up at the realisation. He would not have admitted it even to himself before tonight, but unconsciously Geoffrey had long felt that their relationship had turned into something more than just an alliance in a common fight. He looked at himself, his flushed face, heart hammering in his chest, his guts all fluffy. Surely Jonathan could sense it right through the walls, he thought, blushing even more. “Damn,” he whispered to himself and rubbed his face. He needed to get a grip before his excitement took over completely. Still, he undressed quickly, throwing his clothes on a pile on the floor. He didn’t really want to let Jonathan wait – whatever it was he was waiting for. He’d washed himself thoroughly before he’d come here a few hours earlier, so he finished fast, but he took his time brushing his teeth. Finally, he picked up his clothes, gave himself one last toothy smile in the mirror, then he went back to Jonathan’s room.

The Ekon was sitting at his desk when Geoffrey entered, bent over some papers and writing. He looked up when Geoffrey closed the door.

“You working?” the hunter asked, curious rather than disappointed.

Jonathan shook his head, unable to tear his gaze from the hunter. It was obvious why he was such a skilled fighter and dangerous opponent, he thought as he looked at Geoffrey’s broad chest and shoulders and the scars and bitemarks covering his pale skin. He could sense the warmth emanating from him, and the desire to pull the Irishman into an embrace, feel him, smell him, taste him became almost overpowering. He swallowed.

Geoffrey raised an eyebrow. Clearly, vampires could blush, he suddenly realised.

“You-- look good,” Jonathan mumbled, stumbling over words and thoughts, embarrassed by his own confession.

“If you weren’t a leech, I might take that as a compliment,” Geoffrey smirked.

“Yes…” Jonathan cleared his throat, hoping to dispel the wishes that had crept into his mind and realising he wasn’t making any sense. “You can put your things on the chair,” he offered, getting up. He desperately wished he could have unsaid his awkward remark, but Geoffrey didn’t seem to mind at all.

The hunter dumped his clothes on the now empty chair and took a step towards Jonathan. “Don’t sleep in your coffin tonight,” he said as he sat down on the bed, pulling the other man with him. Putting a hand on the Ekon’s cheek, he leaned in for a kiss, and he wasn’t surprised when Jonathan’s lips parted, inviting him to deepen the kiss before he broke away reluctantly. 

“Geoffrey,” he began, “I don’t think--” He broke off, trying to find the right words. “I’m— I’m _dead_ , I look dead and my body is as cold as any dead man’s. You won’t want me near you.”

Geoffrey chuckled. “Let me be the judge of that. As long as you don’t give in to your leechy desires and start snacking on me, I’m fine.”

“We both know leeches can’t help giving in to temptation.”

Geoffrey raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of which – what did you feed on tonight?”

“You don’t want to know,” Jonathan teased. “But I’m not starving, and I did brush my teeth, so you’ll be perfectly safe.”

“Good to know,” Geoffrey hummed, moving to lie back and crawl under the sheets. “Come here then.”

Jonathan stood up, kicked off his shoes, unbuckled his belt and shoved down his trousers, watching Geoffrey closely. He still didn’t think the hunter would be comfortable with his cold body, so he didn’t take off his shirt. The hunter moved aside to make space for him when he sat down on the mattress, but when he slipped under the blanket, Geoffrey moved closer again. Lying on his side, Jonathan reached out and put his arm across the hunter’s belly. Tentatively, he brushed his fingers across the warm skin.

“That what you missed?” Geoffrey asked almost inaudibly, putting his own hand on the Ekon’s.

Jonathan didn’t reply, but he mumbled contentedly and tightened his grip, pulling Geoffrey even closer. He was so warm and comforting.

“I did, too,” Geoffrey admitted in a small voice, wrapping his arm around Jonathan’s torso and putting one leg over his thigh. Even though his body was unnaturally cold, the hunter snuggled close, resting his head on the Ekon’s shoulder. He now wished he hadn’t drunk so much, as he felt sleep claim him, though he also figured that if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t even be here now, sleeping with Dr Jonathan Reid.

* * *

He woke with a start.

It took him a split second to remember where he was, when a hand brushed across his cheek.

“Morning, Geoffrey,” Jonathan whispered, bending down to kiss the hunter’s forehead. “Did you sleep well?”

“Hmmm, I did,” Geoffrey mumbled sleepily. It felt awfully early. “What time is it?” he groaned.

“Still early, go back to sleep” Jonathan replied quietly, caressing the Irishman’s back. “But it’ll be dawn soon, so when you wake up, I’ll seem—” he thought of a better word for ‘dead,’ “I’ll be sleeping. Avery will make breakfast for you,” the vampire continued, “just make yourself at home, please.” He hesitated. “You will be here when I wake up, won’t you?”

“Yeh, I will,” Geoffrey replied quietly, “I just need to go and check on my men, but I’ll be here when you wake up, promise. Get some rest, we have beasts to hunt in the sewers tonight, so, undead or not, you’ll need your strength for that.”

“We both know how I get my strength,” Jonathan whispered.

Geoffrey nearly jumped when he felt the Ekon’s breath on the skin of his neck, and then his teeth as he gently nibbled on the corner of his ear. “Don’t even think about it!” he warned, shoving Jonathan’s face away with the palm of his hand. He moved to lie on top of the Ekon, his hand still on his mouth. “I’ll kill you, leech, if you ever try to bite me.”

They both giggled at his empty threat, and when Jonathan wrapped his arms around him, Geoffrey removed his hand and placed a light kiss on his lips. “Now get some sleep, Johnny, I’ll need you tonight.” He pulled the blanket over the both of them and put his head on Jonathan’s chest, letting himself be held by the vampire as they drifted off to sleep.

When the hunter woke up again a few hours later, Jonathan was fast asleep. He didn’t move and wasn’t breathing, but Geoffrey felt his very faint and irregular heartbeat. He rolled off the Ekon’s body, yawning and stretching. Truth be told, he hadn’t slept so well in ages. He reluctantly sat up, swung his legs out of bed and carefully pulled the covers over Jonathan. For a short moment he wondered whether “the master of the house” had been serious about Avery making him breakfast, and that he should feel at home. He was certainly hungry, so he put on his socks, trousers and shirt and went downstairs.

Geoffrey heard voices coming from the kitchen, but before he could turn around and sneak back up the stairs because he didn’t want to meet anyone, the door opened and Avery peeked out. Damn, the butler must have heard him on the stairs.

“Mr McCullum!” he called, giving Geoffrey a wave. “There’s breakfast for you.”

He didn’t even seem surprised at the Priwen leader spending the night at the Reid manor, so once again Geoffrey wondered what Jonathan might have told his butler about him. Grumbling, he went down the stairs to follow Avery into the kitchen when he saw who was sitting at the table.

“Mac?! What the hell are you doing here??” Geoffrey stared at the brawler.

McIntyre didn’t get up, he just gave his leader a broad grin and bit into a slice of bread. “Had us worried a bit there, Geoff,” he said, chewing. “Ye didn’t come home last night, so I thought I’d better make sure yer all right.” Mr Avery was so kind to let me have breakfast ‘ere.”

Geoffrey felt himself blush. “Well, I’m doing just fine, as you can see,” he grumbled and shot McIntyre a warning look before he sat down opposite him at the table.

“Hmm, I _can_ see that,” the brawler grinned. “I’ll come back later to fetch you and Dr Reid, so make sure to be ready.” He emptied his cup and got up. “I’ll have to get back now. Thank you very much again for the breakfast, Mr Avery.”

Before Geoffrey could reply anything, the brawler had already left the kitchen. He sighed and turned towards Avery, still embarrassed.

“I’m sorry about this,” he muttered.

“Not to worry, Sir,” Avery smiled, setting a plate of eggs and bread in front of the hunter. “It is good to have Master Jonathan’s friends around.”

“Hm, that happen often?” Geoffrey grumbled. “His friends coming round, I mean.”

“No.” The butler hesitated. “Actually… Master Jonathan does not really have friends, he has—acquaintances.” If he noticed the shade of doubt crossing Geoffrey’s face, he didn’t let on, but he quickly continued, “other than you, that is. Please do come by any time you wish, Sir, it is good to have some life in the house.”

Geoffrey nodded, strangely relieved.

“And eat up before it gets cold.” Avery smiled, pointing at his plate, and Geoffrey couldn’t help but feel a bit like the spoilt lad Reid must have been, growing up in such a place. He also felt like the butler wanted to say something more, something about Jonathan, but he didn’t. Instead he got up and started cleaning the kitchen. “Please stay,” he said, “if you want to. I will make some tea later, you can stay until your—associates come back.”

* * *

When Jonathan regained consciousness after a dreamless sleep, Geoffrey was curled up against him, snoring softly.

“You’re still here,” he said, pulling the hunter close, waking him gently.

“You sound surprised,” Geoffrey mumbled. He still wasn’t fully awake.

“Hmm-m, I wasn’t sure you’d stay.” He reached out and put a hand on the hunter’s cheek, caressing his face. “I’m very happy you did.”

“Yeah, and you won’t believe what happened,” Geoffrey chuckled. “I’ll tell you about it later, the lads will be here soon, I think, we’ve got work to do.”

“Does that mean you won’t be needed back at Priwen Headquarters tonight either?” the Ekon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Probably not, leech,” Geoffrey replied with a mischievous smile on his face before he pulled Jonathan into a tight embrace.


End file.
